


Merethesgal (A Masquerade)

by QuokkaMocha



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Costume Parties & Masquerades, Elves, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Food Kink, Married Characters, Married Couple, Married Sex, New Year's Eve, Rivendell | Imladris, Roleplay, Stranger Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 00:49:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30080940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuokkaMocha/pseuds/QuokkaMocha
Summary: Celebrían meets a "stranger" during Rivendell's festivities for the turning of the year.
Relationships: Celebrían/Elrond Peredhel
Kudos: 13





	Merethesgal (A Masquerade)

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on Open Scrolls Archive under my old pen name 'Space Weavil'. This version is pretty much identical, save a few tweaks and corrections here and there. Any comments greatly appreciated!

_Mettarë 209 T.A.._

Celebrían let herself drown in a sea of colour, glitter and light; of plaster faces and golden flowers, fine silks and sumptuous velvets. All Imladris seemed ablaze with light, lanterns dancing in the trees around the gardens or high in the rafters of the halls, while candles burned, bright as stars in winter, on twisted stands in every room. Voices drifted in a fog that filled each corner of the house, and through it all a light tune waltzed from the Great Hall, where the dancers all had gravitated once the feast ended.

Outside, the valley lay shrouded in thick snows, the skies inky black and dotted with crystal stars with a bright, waxy moon gleaming down upon the undulating white landscape. Bitter cold air gripped Imladris, but still a few elves ventured out from time to time to escape the fever of the celebration and relax a while in the forgotten, shady corners of the gardens. 

Celebrían sighed with elated satisfaction. There could be no doubt that her celebration had been a success. Since it was a gift to her husband, she had fretted over the preparations for months, desperate that every detail should be perfect. Yet now, as she stood watching the whirling dancers and listened as the music mingled with the sound of chinking glasses and burst of laughter, she felt immensely proud. 

She borrowed the custom of keeping one’s face masked until midnight struck and Yestarë began from the Númenoreans, whom she believed took the idea from a much older race of men. Combining their own, more personal celebration with the festival of the Turning of the Year had also been an inspiration, she told herself. That way she did not feel she was playing ‘Lord and Lady’ and demanding all pay tribute. She and Elrond could celebrate the hundredth year of their marriage while the others could enjoy the coming of a new year. Though they rarely bothered to celebrate a single years’ passing, none argued when they learned the scale of this festival.

She moved through the crowds, only vaguely recognising most of her friends behind their adopted faces, and wondered if she was as thoroughly obscured behind her own mask. Certainly she felt confident and beautiful as she stepped through the throng, moving delicately since her new slippers pinched her feet a little. She had fashioned her own dress in deep blue velvet, embroidered with silver thread that matched her hair, and covered her face with a very plain half mask of white. Drifting with no real purpose from one side of the hall to the other, Celebrían watched the many different eyes peering out through their small openings in the masks and tried to spot the familiar, silvery depths she knew so well and longed to see again. She wanted to find Elrond and see that he was pleased by this gift.

Though in the mass of moving bodies and strange, unusual phantoms, it proved impossible to find anyone by sight alone.

Pausing for a moment by one of the many tables laden with wine and cordial, Celebrían closed her eyes and felt for her husband amongst the ocean of minds, wishing she could somehow call him to her. She longed to share this with him and so far his absence proved the only disappointment of the evening. She had not seen him disappear into the crowd and marvelled that he could think to leave her side that night.

“Are you not dancing, my lady?” asked a deep, clear voice behind her. 

She gasped a little in fright, having been rapt in concentration, and turned to find a masked face gazing benevolently down, framed by neatly styled black hair. Her eyes travelled over him for a long time, over a slim, fine-toned body beneath a golden silk tunic and a copper velvet robe. The gilt-edged mask he wore left only his narrow lips and grey eyes visible, though she could tell his gaze was fixed intently upon her.

“No, I am not dancing,” she replied finally. “It would seem, despite my gift to him, that my husband has deserted me,”

The stranger frowned. “Then your husband is a fool.”

“And this is his house,” retorted Celebrían. “I hardly think it proper for a guest to speak of him so.”

The stranger shrugged. “I say only what I think, and I believe in honesty. If your husband could see fit to leave you on a night such as this, when you stand there in your finery, so beautiful and charming, then I can only conclude that he is a fool.”

“You pay a very personal compliment, considering you are a stranger to me. Is it your habit to court another man’s wife?”

He leaned in closer, reaching out to touch her face, reducing his voice to a whisper.

“I cannot say as I have done so in the past. You are unique, my lady. I have watched you from across the hall and marvelled at you. All sense I might have had has flown at the very sight of you. There is no law now that I would uphold, nor any rule I would not break, if you would share but a moment with me.”

“Impossible.”

A slight smile flickered over his lips and he drew back a pace, still regarding her closely.

“My lady is loyal to a husband who neglects her so.”

“I will not have you insult my husband, friend, whoever you may be.”

His smile widening to a grin, he offered a theatrical bow. “Simply an admirer. Need you know more than that?”

“Your name perhaps?”

“I thought it was the custom not to ask, ‘til midnight tolls the passing of the year? If we are to follow the example of Númenor, I believe that is how they conduct themselves.”

“You are most impertinent, to tell me how to behave in my own house.”

“And to call your husband a fool. Do not forget that.” 

“I think we both know who is the fool here,” replied Celebrían slyly.

“Then,” said the stranger, “if you will not allow me something more intimate, would you at least grant me one dance? As lady of the house, I feel it would be ungracious of you to decline, I might add.”

“You are insolent.”

“And you, My Lady Celebrían, are the most radiant thing I have ever seen.”

Celebrían studied him, watching the playful sparks shimmer in his eyes, then she glanced nervously around the hall at the others. No one paid her any attention. The music continued and the dance consumed them. No one would notice, she thought.

“If I grant you a dance, sir, will you leave me in peace?”

The stranger offered his hand and after a moment she accepted, laying her fingers delicately across his palm. 

“Possibly,” he replied. “Possibly not.”

With a deep sigh that cast a smile across her face, Celebrían curtseyed and headed towards the centre of the hall, but the stranger gave a slight tug on her hand to stop her.

“What is it?” she asked. “I thought you wished to dance?”

“Ah,” answered the stranger, “but I did not say _where.”_

He pulled her gently until she started to follow him across the hall. Though no one seemed to notice, Celebrían found her heart pounding and her gaze flitting from face to face, waiting to find a disapproving glance. Finally the stranger led her into the corridor outside and ducked into the Hall of Fire. A long table lay on the far side, bathed in the warm orange glow from the roaring open fire. Silver dishes laden with food glinted all along its length. Elsewhere there were shadows, deep and impenetrable, with no windows or candles to give light. Only the dancing flames in the hearth illuminated the dark, casting strange patterns on the walls.

“I did not ask for this room to be prepared,” Celebrían protested. 

“Perhaps your husband is not so much of a fool after all,” replied the stranger. “Do you think this is his gift to you?”

He crossed directly to the table, inspecting the spread. Celebrían edged closer, her arms folded. 

“You seem to know my husband’s mind fairly well. And you know the corridors of Imladris as if you had spent all your life here.”

“Not all my life, but you are trying to discern my identity again, and that defeats the purpose of this celebration, does it not?”

Celebrían smiled. “I am only ensuring my safety. I have been led into an empty room by a stranger with designs upon me. I would know what he intends.”

“Oh, nothing but the very worst, my lady.”

With the laughter and music still wafting on the air from the great hall, and the fire crackling sleepily, the stranger stooped over the table, lifting a small wafer from a platter. Pinching the wafer, he scooped up a small, glistening portion of crushed berries from another dish, and offered it to her.

“Yes, perhaps he is not a fool after all,” he whispered, bringing the wafer to her lips. Celebrían stared intensely at him for a moment longer, watching the firelight dance in his eyes, then accepted the gift, letting the soft, sweet fruit dissolve upon her tongue as he held the wafer. One small droplet fell, landing on her breast, bright crimson against her pale flesh. 

“I never said he was a fool,” Celebrían replied at length. “He is everything to me.”

The stranger let out a dark, quiet laugh, then gently brushed his finger over the curve of her cleavage, mopping up the spilled berry juice with one deft stroke. He brought the digit to his lips and sucked away the deep red stain without taking his eyes from her.

“Everything?” he asked.

“Everything.”

Caressing her face and hair once again, the stranger moved a little closer, his gaze trained on her. Celebrían shuddered and felt her heartbeat quicken, suddenly realising, as he closed his eyes and eased his face towards hers, that he intended to kiss her. She drew away quickly, leaving him to stumble forward.

“You said you wished to dance,” she told him firmly. “And that is all I agreed to grant you. As yet.”

He considered her for a moment, then bowed graciously. “As you wish. So let us dance.”

“There is no music here.”

“Dance is only partly about music, my lady. ‘Tis but a guide. A dance is about two bodies intertwining, drawing close…”

He posed himself, ready to take her hand for a formal, stately dance and waited for her to accept his offer, his expression intense as he watched her come towards him. She laid her hand on his and stepped with him into the centre of the hall.

“You have a unique way of looking at things,” said Celebrían, as they slowly circled one another, using the faint rhythm coming from the great hall as a guide. Celebrían, at the correct moment, dropped into a sweeping curtsey, averting her gaze for a second, but as she rose, ready to tackle the next steps, the stranger gathered her suddenly into his arms. For a moment, as he swung her around, Celebrían thought she might fall but he held her tightly, the gold edges of his mask glittering in the firelight, then he brought her upwards and drew her close until their hips touched. As an instinct she let her arms curl around his shoulders and felt herself fall nearer to him, the dry warmth of the open fire and the strong smell of wine making her dizzy.

“I do not know this dance,” she whispered.

“Do not worry, my lady,” he replied. “You are in safe hands.”

Celebrían’s heart grew more furious, beating in time with the ghostly music from the hall. He controlled the pace, holding her tightly in his arms until she felt the warmth of his body and smelled the perfume on his hair. He twisted around her, moving with deft fluidity, without once taking his gaze from her eyes. In the great hall, the music swelled towards its final cadence and as the last notes strained to their conclusion, he wrapped his arms around her body, pulling her subtly until barely a breath lay between them. Then as the crowds in the hall applauded the minstrels, and Celebrían found herself completely confined within his arms, the stranger leaned in once again to attempt a kiss.

This time, though she still struggled, she let his mouth find hers and submitted as his tongue pressed gently against her lips to part them. For a moment she allowed herself to drown in the sensation, in the feel of his breath mingled with hers, and of his supple form within her arms, his hair as cool as silk as she grabbed handfuls of it and clawed at his back. 

Finally though he let her breathe and drew back, his grey eyes deeply serious for the first time. Celebrían gasped and glanced towards the doorway.

“The others,” she whispered. “What if someone were to come in…?”

He planted one small kiss upon her lips, stifling further protests, then before she could resist, he dipped beneath her, sweeping her feet from under her and held her in his arms.

“What are you…?” she began, but his smile silenced her. 

“Addressing your concerns,” he replied. “Making sure no one sees.”

“Wait…”

Unable to suppress a giggle, Celebrían clung tightly to him as he carried her from the hall and headed for the grand staircase to the upper storey. The corridors of Imladris stretched around them, empty and echoing with mirth from the other rooms. Celebrían saw no one else, but her mind reeled so wildly that she could not be sure of anything. The world seemed to race past, unreal and misty. They kept to the shadows, avoiding those areas Celebrían had set aside for the celebration, and finally came to the Lord and Lady’s chambers.

Celebrían’s heart beat hard in her chest and her pulse throbbed in her ears. She found herself both terrified and enthralled, twitching at the thought of discovery and yet longing for the moment to continue, for him to stay with her.

“That is my celebration below,” she whispered. “I cannot leave it…”

He sidled through the door of her chamber, mindful of her as they passed through the frame. “You already have, my lady.”

“What if someone should come searching for me?”

“Oh, what then?” he mocked, taking her directly across the dressing room to the small, secluded entrance leading through to the bedchamber. 

He held her so effortlessly, carrying her as though she weighed no more than the soft pillows basking in the moonlight on the neatly made bed. As he laid her down on the counterpane, with such delicacy that she seemed to float for a moment before the firm mattress pressed against her back, he let his hands linger over her for a while as he straightened, light touches that made her muscles twitch. 

“I see you have given up your protests,” he remarked.

Celebrían shuddered, realising that she wanted him as much as he seemed to want her, and that the thrill of this elicit encounter was stirring her, sending her blood coursing around her body where its warmth awakened her most private parts. After he had explored her body thoroughly with his eyes, the stranger peeled off his copper coloured robe and let it ripple to the floor, before, with sweeping gestures, he untied the sash around his waist.

“I asked everyone to celebrate with me, and then I abandon them,” she mused.

“That makes you a discourteous hostess indeed,” he answered, unbuttoning his tunic.

She watched him undress fully, his muscles and pale skin highlighted by the beams of the full moon shining through the flimsy window drapes. Throughout it all, he retained the mask, his eyes hidden in the shadows. Celebrían, though, found other ways to read his intentions. 

“I must not do this,” she whispered, as he knelt on the bed beside her, his fingers seeking out the buttons of her dress. He popped each one from its loop with a skilful twitch, then slid his hand beneath the fabric, taking one of her small, firm breasts into his hand, kneading the flesh until her nipple pressed hard against his palm. 

“No,” he replied, “you must not.”

He allowed himself only a moment of pleasure, however, before returning to the task of removing her clothes, kissing her deeply as he did so. He unfastened her sash and whipped it from beneath her body before tossing it aside, then slid a hand along her thigh, pushing her skirts up to her waist. He caressed the backs of her legs, pressing with his fingertips against her tendons, sending sparks of pleasure through her nerves. All the while his tongue delved deep into her mouth, surrounding hers, his lips feather-soft yet firm. His fingers soon strayed further towards the tops of her legs, reaching beneath her skirts, where he gently stroked her lower lips. She sighed and ran her hands over his hair as he leaned in close and nibbled at her neck.

“You wear nothing underneath your dress, my lady,” he breathed into her ear. “Could it be you expected something to occur?”

“Perhaps not expected…perhaps hoped.”

He rocked back and knelt between her legs, looking down at her, then slipped her dress completely off her shoulders. With a few sharp tugs on the skirts, he drew the garment off and left her lain out before him, her naked body writhing as her breathing grew shallow and her heart throbbed. 

“You will not remove your mask?” she asked.

“It is not midnight yet. Nor shall I remove yours.”

He threw her dress to the floor and she did not care, despite the hours of toil she had put into its creation. She saw nothing but his muscular body, glistening with the slightest film of perspiration, and his eyes like quicksilver, gazing down at her with undisguised longing.

With a few subtle movements she positioned her legs a little tighter around him, drawing him closer, and reached up to embrace him as he draped his body over hers like a gossamer veil. Soft skin brushed against skin and Celebrían felt his hardness for the first time, pressed against her tender inner thigh, awaiting the proper moment to enter her. She caressed his body and he enveloped her small, delicate hands in his, guiding her as she stroked and massaged his chest. 

She began to feel lost if his mouth was not on hers, and strained to reach his lips. As if he read her thoughts and knew how much she wanted his touch, he pulled out of reach each time she tried, smiling playfully, while his hands moved to her breasts once again, pinching and squeezing. He revelled in each moan and soft whimper he drew from her and kept his gentle manipulation of her body as steady and rhythmical as their dance had been. Pressing his thumbs against her nipples, he lightly pushed her breasts together, before he leaned over and flicked his tongue against the erect tips until she gasped again.

The murmur of voices drifted up from the gardens below, but Celebrían barely heard the sound. The thought of discovery no longer worried her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and nibbled on the lobe of his ear. She wanted to whisper, to beg him to take her, but no words came. Suddenly she felt a gaping emptiness inside her, a void that only he could fill and each brush of his cheek against hers or touch of his hand intensified the feeling until it threatened to consume her.

At last he shifted slightly, easing into position before he entered her. Celebrían squirmed, already aroused more than she could ever remember, but ready to be taken further over the edge. His firm abdomen pressed against her stomach as he lay atop her and began the second slow, assiduous dance of the evening. Almost in tears, Celebrían lay back and breathed in the scent of him, feeling her body ripple out of control with every thrust. As his motions grew harder and more urgent, she clawed at the headboard, grimacing to stifle her cries, until the pressure was too great and she sighed, then moaned, then wailed aloud. She forgot about the celebration. She forgot the others in the gardens below who might hear, and screamed as he drove her closer and closer to her climax, though at first, each time she neared the end, he skilfully slowed his movements and left her tortured by the tempest of sensations. 

Finally though, as his groans mingled with hers and his muscles strained, he pushed harder, forcing himself in as deep as he could and the first waves of ecstasy washed over her, tightening her body in a frenzied spasm. She cried out and let her orgasm take full hold, unable to breathe for what felt like an eternity, before she fell limp and exhausted, on the sweat soaked sheets.

Outside, she heard the elven voices swell and the chatter increase, but soon another sound cut through the dark to the two lovers, sprawled side by side in the moonlight. A slow, regal bell tolled out across the night and a great cheer rose from the crowd in the gardens. Laughing breathlessly, Celebrían reached up and tore her mask from her face, finding her skin clammy with sweat. She stretched and sighed.

“Another year,” she said. “By your side.”

She pulled off Elrond’s mask, ruffling his hair, as he grinned down at her.

“It does not seem like a hundred years,” she went on, with a gentle hand against his face.

“A hundred years is nothing,” Elrond replied, “compared to eternity, which is what I shall spend with you, if you would permit me, my lady.”

Celebrían beamed at him then kissed him. Eventually Elrond sighed and scrambled to sit up. 

“I suppose we ought to return,” he said. “Before anyone misses us.”

She caught his arm before he could stand.

“This is our celebration,” she whispered, “and my gift to you. Therefore we can do whatever we please this night.”

Elrond glanced towards the door, then to the window where, below, the elves sang loudly to the night and gossiped fervently. Finally he returned his gaze to her, and offered her his hand.

“Then, would you grant me one last dance, my lady?”


End file.
